The Haunting of St Patrick
by xxDodo
Summary: Gilan doesn't really believe in all the old superstitions about St. Patrick. But when they start coming true, maybe the stories aren't very silly after all... St. Patrick's Day one-shot, R&R!


**Ah, St. Patrick's Day. A day of luck and good fortune. And another purpose for me to write a holiday one-shot! **

**Some info before you read: In RA, Hibernia is based off of Ireland, which where this holiday originated of course. And Halt is from Hibernia, therefore he would know all the original traditions and superstitions, unlike Gilan. Sure, I have no idea whether or not they celebrated St. Patty's Day, but all in the fun of writing fiction, eh?**

**Enjoy! *spooky laughter***

**Disclaimer: Yes, I've got the papers! *reads fine print* Oh, darn it! Does a coupon to Pizza Hut count? No? Then I got nothing.**

* * *

For the umpteenth time since dinner, Gilan moaned. Halt, of course, was apt at blocking out any complaints. But even famous Rangers have their limits, and Gilan was pushing it. Who knew apprentices could be so _annoying_?

"But Halt," Gilan moaned again. "I'm _tired_. I've been training all day."

"Maybe you should stop over-exerting yourself," Halt said mildly. Hiding a smirk at Gilan's gaping mouth, he continued, "What important holiday is being celebrated in Hibernia tomorrow?"

"When I am I ever going to need to know that?" Gilan burst out, barely concealing his whiny tone.

"It's good to know in case you ever visit around this time."

Gilan scowled a little. He was sure Halt had finally run out of questions about geography, and was now just torturing his apprentice with random trivia.

"St. Patrick's Day, Halt, of course."

"Why?"

"No one cares!"

Gilan's glare faltered as Halt fixed him with that piercing gaze, eyebrows going up in the expression that had become so familiar in the past year or so. He shifted uncomfortably. Halt was from Hibernia. Oops.

"What I meant was," Gilan tried. "I don't see why it's necessary for me to learn. Admit it, you're just trying to keep me from my bed!"

Halt shrugged. "Maybe so, but you won't be so keen to fall asleep when the ghosts start coming."

Gilan almost laughed. How old did Halt think he was? Five? There were no such things as ghosts! Gil voiced his thoughts, looking amused at Halt's sudden shock.

"But, Gil, don't you know? St. Patrick would raise people from the dead to help him in his quests for reverting people to Christianity. No one would dare deny the dead, let along scoff at their existence." Halt looked horrified at the thought, glancing around as though someone would overhear them.

"Come on, Halt, I know those were your fairy tales growing up, but you can't honestly believe that junk."

Halt shook his head. "You laugh now Gilan, but when you start being haunted don't come running to me."

Gilan rolled his eyes, standing up. "I won't even wear green tomorrow! It'll be just another day, you'll see." The boy then seized his chance, sprinting into his room for some sleep. Halt didn't stop him, too busy wondering how many ghosts he would need.

* * *

It was past noon the next day, and Gilan crept silently through the forest in search of Halt. This time, Gilan was sure, he could sneak up on his mentor.

True to his word, Gilan was wearing no green, nor was he acknowledging the holiday. It was just a normal day, in which Gilan still could never manage to sneak up on Halt. Or in this case, even find the old Ranger.

Gilan stopped for a break, leaning against a tree but still aware of his surroundings. That's why, at the barely audible shifting of leaves Gilan straightened, eyes roving the trees. More leaves floated in front of his feet, and despite himself Gilan found he was slightly nervous. Nonetheless, his voice was steady as he called out, "Who's there?" There was no answer for a moment, but the forest seemed eerily still.

Then, "_Gilan._"

Gilan couldn't help but jump. It was only his first year of training after all, and if bandits were on the loose Gil wasn't sure if he would be able to take them. But bandits wouldn't make this little noise, nor know his name for that matter. _Ghosts_. The thought popped into Gilan's head. He shook it off abruptly, refusing to believe Halt's old superstitions to be true. There was no such thing.

Gil had to remind himself of that fact as the leaves shifted once again and he heard his name, louder this time. "_Gilan!"_

Gilan whirled as he saw a flash of pale white out of the corner of his eye. He whirled again as he heard breathy laughter from the other side. They were everywhere! _No, _he thought angrily.

Gilan shrank back against the tree as more flashes of white appeared, and now there was raspy breathing, seemingly from everywhere. Gil was too terrified to move. How did ghosts kill you? Could they even kill you, they were dead themselves. But what if they wanted revenge? All these thoughts ran through Gilan's head until he was about faint.

All he had to do was cut through the trees, then there was a clear path home. The problem was the trees were filled with ghosts. Just as a Gilan was preparing to run, there was a huge _CRACK! _And the large branch of a tree thudded loudly right by his feet.

Gilan, abandoning all pretense of courage, screamed loudly and sprinted away from the sight. He ran as though the ghosts were right on his heels, which they may have been, and didn't stop until the cabin was in sight. Even then he burst through the door and paused to lock it tightly, before continuing into the safety of his room. He had some things to fix.

* * *

Gilan waddled out of his room a few hours later, not being able to walk straight because of all of the clovers and and green leaves in his pants in shirt. Halt looked up from where he was making dinner, about to ask where Gilan had been the whole afternoon. He got his answer however, as he studied the boy in front of him.

After changing into a green tunic and green leggings, Gilan had collected as many shamrocks as he could and stuffed them in his clothes and pockets. Apparently deciding that it wasn't enough, he wove grass into his hair so that it hung down in front of his face. To top it off (literally), the boy had obtained a large green hat with a buckle around the rim, which went down over his ears but completed the picture of insanity.

"In the spirit of the holiday, Gil?" was all Halt could say, unable to get enough of the comical figure in front of him. He may have laughed, if Halt was the outward laughing sort.

Gilan nodded wordlessly, looking quite like a wide-eyed cabbage.

Halt just shrugged. "Whatever you want to do. Soup or meat, Gil?"

"No thanks Halt," Gilan said nervously. "I want spinach, and maybe some asparagus or cucumbers."

"You _want_ to eat all that healthy stuff?" Halt stared at his apprentice in disbelief.

"I have to eat only green food!" Gilan insisted. "If that means" - here Gil shuddered - "_vegetables_, then so be it."

"Alright, Gil, what's going on?" Halt asked, shaking his head at Gilan's obsessiveness. He had half a mind to check the boy for a fever.

"I saw the ghosts, Halt," Gilan whispered, glancing around much as Halt had the night before. "They wanted to get revenge for what I said last night."

"So, you believe in ghosts?" Halt asked. Gilan ignored the question, too caught up in his story-telling.

"And then, they were almost about to attack me, but I saw an opening and ran from my life!" Gilan said seriously, not mentioning the part about him screaming like a little girl.

"Sounds bad."

"It was terrifying!"

"I try my best," Halt commented. Gilan paused in the next exclamation to stare at Halt, dumbstruck. The Ranger waited patiently until the boy caught on, spooning green vegetables onto Gilan's plate and sitting down in front of his own fresh meat and bread.

"It was _you_?" Gilan finally managed. "I almost had a heart attack then!"

"Well, your friends up at the castle were quite keen to jump in once they learned what you thought of today's festivities."

"They were all in on this?" Gilan asked mournfully and Halt nodded. The boy gaped, which then turned into a scowl as he thought of the best way to get at them, not to mention Halt, for his scare. He sat down hard on the bench, not quite sure what else to say first.

"So, what have you learned?" Halt prodded, smirking at the boy's shock.

Gilan now looked confused, and a little annoyed. He guessed sarcastically, "Uh, the next time I think ghosts are haunting me I should assume it's my evil mentor?"

Halt refrained from rolling his eyes, instead fixing the boy with a condescending glare. "No," he said, annoyingly smug. "Think twice the next time you disregard another's beliefs."

Gilan, instead of looking apologetic, looked surprised. "You did all that just because I hurt your feelings?" he asked incredulously.

Halt gaped a little. "Of course not!" he replied heatedly. "I was just showing you what happened when you were rude like that."

"So, your feelings _were _hurt?"

"No!"

"I'm sorry, Halt."

Halt stopped the denial on the tip of his tongue. Gilan looked at him imploringly, sticking out his bottom lip for emphasis. "I didn't mean to," he continued, sounded upset.

The older Ranger studied him suspiciously, not buying the innocent and relenting act. All the same, he replied, "The look on your face when you thought you were being haunted was enough." Halt started to grin a little again. "I could have sworn you were going to start asking for your mommy."

Gilan glowered, his face heating up. "I was not!" he protested indignantly. "I wasn't even that scared!" At Halt's sudden disbelieving laughter Gilan glared some more. It had been quite mean. "And the way you look now sure makes up for it too," Halt said smirking. Gilan stabbed at his food, ignoring him.

"Gil?" The boy looked up, frowning. Halt gave a little half-smile. "I'm sorry, too."

Gilan perked up, grinning suddenly. "Okay," he replied, returning to his plateful of vegetables.

Halt blinked. "That's it?" he asked uncertainly. "You're fine now?"

"Yup!" Gilan nodded to Halt's meat. "Are you gonna eat that?"

Halt rolled his eyes, marveling at the youth's ability to forgive and forget. _Well, _thought Halt, smirking. _At least I'll be able to tell the rest of the Rangers. _Halt placed a piece of meat on Gil's plate, deciding if he was nice enough Gil wouldn't want any revenge. It was these crazy moments of having an apprentice, Halt thought, that someone should really write down.

* * *

**Well, that was fun. Not too long, but in the spirit of the holiday :).**

**Drop me a review and lemme know what you thought! It's incredibly easy, and it really does mean a lot that there are real people reading my writing and maybe actually liking it :). So please, review!**

**-Dodo**


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